


The full Dean Winchester experience

by soy_em



Series: Wincest Love Week 2018 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 13:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15050681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soy_em/pseuds/soy_em
Summary: Sam meets a seriously hot stranger in a bar





	The full Dean Winchester experience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NaughtyPastryChef](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyPastryChef/gifts).



Sam’s nervous as he sits at the bar, the venue more upmarket than he’s used to. There’s more than one kind of whiskey behind the bar, the leather is uncracked and there are even a couple of people wearing ties. He tugs at his own collar, a rare outing in his nice shirt, and casts his eye around. 

Sam rarely goes out to bars by himself, but tonight he’d just felt that itch. He’d roved around the motel room, unable to settle to his work; and finally given up, heading out to the bar in town his contact had told him about earlier. Apparently, the Golden Lion was the place to go if you wanted to find some action. 

Sam’s just starting to think that he should approach the dark-haired guy in the corner who’s been eyeing him for the past twenty minutes when he senses someone slide onto the barstool next to his. His new neighbour is so close that their sleeves brush, a waft of cologne floating his way. It smells good, and Sam postpones his plan for a moment. 

“Whiskey, neat.” The voice is a deep and rough, as if it’s owner has already been sampling a few drinks before coming out, and Sam’s very interested. “Make it a large.” The bartender slides the glass into a strong hand, thick but elegant knuckles highlighted by golden hairs; Sam’s never found hands attractive before, but there’s a first time for everything. 

Sam reminds himself that even though this is the local hook-up joint, subtlety is still his friend, so he gives it a moment before turning slowly. He’s not disappointed when he does; the man next to him is stunning, all golden hair and golden freckles and golden skin, eyes dancing in the candlelight. Sam blinks, taken aback by his beauty, mouth turning up into a tiny smile without his permission. 

The guy gives him a slow look up and down, assessing and warm, and Sam feels himself blush. 

“Hi,” the guy drawls. Sam’s so relieved that he liked what he saw that it takes him a moment to answer. 

“Hi,” he stutters once he remembers. 

“You look thirsty.” The guy manages to imbue the innocuous phrase with a second meaning that has Sam reddening to the tips of his ears. “Can I buy you a drink?” His voice barely lifts; it should be impossible to hear above the crowd but Sam feels attuned to every word. 

“Beer,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Aww, fine guy like you needs something a bit more special. Let me get you one of these?” He gestures with his glass, and Sam’s powerless to resist. 

“Sure, I’ll give it a try.”

The guy gives him a smirk that says he’d like Sam to give something else a try, but refrains from speaking again until there’s a tumbler and a bottle of beer in front of Sam. Taking a quick sniff, Sam sips the whiskey, eyes closing as he savours his companion’s excellent taste. 

When he opens his eyes again, gold-flecked eyes are locked on his mouth. Sam’s almost flustered by the obvious attention, the way the eyes then flick up to his, holding a moment too long. Picking up his beer, he takes a healthy swig to give himself enough time to regain his control. 

This time, the man’s eyes are locked, hungry, on Sam’s throat. “This is going to sound cheesy,” he says. “But you are fucking gorgeous.” He licks his lips, and it’s Sam’s turn to stare. 

“That is cheesy,” Sam replies, but he’s pleased, so pleased it must be beaming from him. From the little smirk that crosses those full lips, his companion can tell that Sam is the absolute opposite of offended. 

“I don’t usually do this.” The guy pauses to finish his whiskey, setting his glass back down with a click. “But you’re something else. Do you wanna get out of here?” 

“Guys who say they don’t usually do this are usually the ones who do it the most,” Sam returns smartly, but the way his body is turned completely towards the other guy must give his answer loud and clear. “And I haven’t even finished my drink.”

“We’ve got all night.” There’s such promise in the words that Sam shivers.

“I don’t even know your name,” he says, unsure where this sudden reticence has come from, given that this is exactly what he was looking for tonight. 

“It’s Dean. Make sure you remember it for later.” Dean winks at him, meaning clear. That’s more than Sam can cope with; he downs the last of his whiskey and almost stumbles as he stands. 

“I’m Sam.”

“Alright, Sam; let’s get out of here.”

***

It takes them only a few minutes to get back to the motel. As soon as Sam opens the door, he’s slammed up against it, Dean hemming him in, close enough to share breath but not moving any nearer. Dean settles his forearms on the door next to Sam’s head, and runs the tip of his nose up Sam’s throat and along the shell of his ear. Sam shivers, full body and uncontrollable, breath coming faster. 

Dean rolls his hips forward and Sam moans, the sound slipping out without his permission. He has a brief moment to see Dean smirk before sharp white teeth are nipping at his lip, tongue demanding entrance. Sam opens immediately; there’s no point in being coy, they both know what they’re here for. Dean’s an excellent kisser, tongue tangling with Sam’s so expertly that Sam’s lost in it, barely aware of Dean’s hands sweeping down his body. His own have settled on Dean’s back, fingers digging reflexively into impressive muscle. 

Dean pulls back for a moment. “Nice as this is, I’d kind’ve like to see all this.” He trails his finger down the buttons of Sam’s shirt with a wink. It’s cheesy again, so cheesy; but Sam’s so charmed by him (or there’s such a lack of blood in his brain) that he can’t care. “C’mon.” Dean hooks his hands into Sam’s waistband and pulls. He spins Sam and pushes, so that Sam lands on his back on the bed, bouncing gently. Sam watches, entranced, as Dean stands at the end of the bed, pulling off his clothes with more than a hint of showmanship. 

“Your turn,” he says, when he’s down to his boxers, but Sam’s not being denied this last bit of skin. 

“You first,” he says, eyes skating over miles of golden skin covered with hundreds of freckles. 

“Hardly seems fair,” Dean remarks, but the smirk is firmly in place and he doesn’t hesitate to slide his boxers down his hips. Sam watches as his cock slips free, bouncing against his stomach; it’s mouth-watering, big but not beyond Sam’s capabilities, and flushed a healthy pink. 

“Right.” Dean crawls onto the bed, eyes locked on Sam’s chest. “I think it’s only fair that since I’m already naked, I get to unwrap you.” 

Sam’s more than ok with that, and he nods frantically as Dean’s hands descend on his shirt. Dean slips the buttons free, one at a time, pressing an achingly slow kiss behind each until Sam’s shirt slips to the sides. Trailing his fingers across the dips of Sam’s stomach, he smiles. “You should be naked all the time.”

Sam’s spared the need to reply when Dean’s hands move to his fly, pulling down the zipper with aching slowness. Sam wants to shout at him to hurry up, but there’s a part of him that suspects that’s exactly what Dean, who’s clearly a cocky bastard, is waiting for. He bites his lip and endures, wiggling his hips to help Dean get his jeans down his legs. 

It takes a moment for Dean to strip Sam completely naked. Once he has, he sits back on his knees, eyes roving across Sam’s body. “Wow. I’m gonna say it again. You should never be allowed to wear clothes.”

“Shut up,” Sam says, bright red. He reaches for one of the pillows, intending to throw it at Dean’s smirking face, only to find his wrists pinned by the side of his head, Dean looming over him. 

“Now be nice,” Dean says, voice whiskey-rough. “Good boys get a reward.” 

Sam’s about to say something snarky in return, but its cut off by Dean kissing him again, short-circuiting Sam’s brain. Dean lowers his body until he’s flush against Sam; heat and strength and weight making Sam feel like he’s on overload. Sam lifts his hips, pressing up, and wraps his legs around Dean’s waist, determined not to let him get away again. 

Dean does pull back, but only to lay a trail of stinging bites along Sam’s jawline, little spots of pain that flare bright for a moment. “How do you wanna do this?” he asks, right into Sam’s ear, tongue swirling behind. 

Sam can barely collect himself to answer. “I think you should fuck me,” he says, voice ragged. 

“I was hoping you’d say that, sweetheart,” Dean replies, and Sam feels his pulse kick up a notch at the endearment. 

***

Sam’s flipped onto his front so fast that he’s disoriented for a moment, the scratchy motel pillow rubbing against his face as he gets his bearings back. Instinct drives him to push upwards, but Daen’s hands are firm against his back, keeping him flat; and Sam works to ignore his reaction and relax against the bed. He’s helped by Dean trailing kisses down his back, his hands gripping Sam’s hips tight enough to hold Sam down. Dean intersperses the kisses with those little bites he’d tried earlier; and Sam’s already thinking about whether any of them will show up on his skin tomorrow; whether there’ll be any reminder of this.

Dean reaches the dip of Sam’s spine, breathing hot and warm across smooth skin and licking up a stray bead of sweat. Sam’s fingers are clenched in the pillows, waiting for Dean to make his next move, listening for the sound of a bottle opening. 

He yelps when a sharper bite is laid on his left ass cheek - that will definitely leave a mark - and then all his breath leaves his body in a woosh as Dean spreads his cheek and licks. Sam loves this, would pick it over any other sexual act; but he never for a moment thought he’d get it from a random hook up in a bar. Dean’s tongue is warm and soft, scraping across his skin until Sam opens up enough to let him in, and Sam arches his back up as best he can, desperate for more. 

“I guess you like that then,” Dean says, voice tickling over Sam’s ass, tongue giving a tiny little lick. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Sam says - or at least thinks he says, his brain to mouth connection not quite up and running as normal. Whatever noise escapes him is clearly enough for Dean, who goes back to work with enthusiasm, driving his tongue into Sam’s ass harder and faster, until Sam’s humping his hips back desperately. His cock is dragging along the sheets below him, the covers scratchy but not enough to provide any real friction, and Sam’s seconds away from begging for more, for anything that will move this forwards.

He spared the indignity when Dean pulls back with one last lick along Sam’s ass from his back to his balls. Sam shudders violently, trying to follow Dean’s mouth; he whimpers when he realises that Dean’s pulled away. 

“Just a second,” Dean says, hand tugging roughly through Sam’s hair. “Not going anywhere.” Sam forces himself to settle, trying to look back at Dean only to have his head pushed back down again. He’s about to try harder when he’s distracted by a finger swirling around his hole, wet and cold and delicious. 

“See,” Dean says, cocky tone firmly in place, and Sam does see. This is exactly what he wanted, after all. 

Dean doesn’t spend a lot of time prepping him. It’s perfunctory, enough to get Sam slick and loose but nowhere near enough to get him off; perfect for what Sam wants, which is Dean’s cock in his ass as soon as possible. 

“C’mon,” he grumbles, pushing back, and gets a stinging slap on his ass for his trouble. 

“Patience.” 

Sam’s debating an irritable reply when he hears the rip of a condom packet. Dean’s still got two fingers in Sam’s ass, moving rhythmically in and out, so he must have ripped the packet with his teeth. The fingers withdraw, just for a second. The first note of a whine slips from Sam’s mouth to be replaced with a yell as Dean pushes in, not rough but relentless, until Sam is full. 

They both stop to pant, overcome with sensation; Sam’s scrabbling at the pillow, arms trembling; half wanting to push up to his knees and half unable to move at all. 

“Ready?” Dean asks. Sam’s never been more ready for anything in his life; he nods frantically and one of Dean’s hands settles in his hair again, pulling gently before he starts to move his hips. 

It’s fast from the start, neither of them in the mood for soft and tender; Dean’s not violent but he is determined, hips smacking into Sam in a fierce rhythm. He’s soon found just the right angle to hit Sam’s prostate, and Sam just about hears his chuckle over the ringing in his ears. 

Sam’s just found the right angle to grind down onto the sheets when Dean realises what he’s doing. “None of that,” he says, grin audible in his voice. He pulls Sam up by the hips so that he’s on his hands and knees, unable to get any friction at all; Sam’s about to complain, vociferously, when Dean’s hand wraps around his cock. 

It’s enough to make Sam yell again, and there’s a fleeting thought in his head for their neighbours, gone as soon as its come. Dean moves his hand in firm strokes, matching the churn of his hips, sending sparks skating down Sam’s spine. Sam knows this isn’t going to last much longer; he can feel heat building in his body already, tingling in his toes and coalescing in his stomach. 

“Dean,” he pants, tossing his head from side to side. “Dean.” He wants to come with Dean, wants the to tumble over together.

“You gonna come, Sammy?” Dean asks, strain in his voice for the first time. His hips speed up a notch, slamming against Sam’s ass. Sam nods, hair falling in his eyes. 

“Good.” Dean speeds up his hand, winding the other into Sam’s hair and pulling hard. That’s enough for Sam; the tug on his hair complementing the fire in his blood, and he yells as he comes, body shaking in Dean’s grip. Dean swears behind him, coming with a grunt, his hand tightening even more on Sam’s head. 

They collapse onto the bed together, Sam making sure that Dean’s arms wind around him. He’s not ready to let go yet. 

****

“You good, Sammy?” Dean asks eventually. 

“Mhmm,” Sam answers, too lazy and sated for words. 

“Was it what you wanted?” There’s just the slightest hint of worry in Dean’s voice. Sam forces his eyes open and looks at his brother. 

“Exactly what I wanted,” he murmurs. “Thanks for doing that for me.”

Even in the dim light of the streetlight outside he can see the satisfied smirk on his brother’s face. “So you enjoyed it then? The full Dean Winchester experience?”

Sam elbows him - gently though, because he’s had a good night.

“I better be the only one that gets the full Dean Winchester experience,” he grumbles. 

“You know you’re my only girl, Samantha,” Dean says. 

This time Sam does elbow him hard. Dean grunts, but then chuckles, pulling Sam in tight against him. “Night Sammy.”

“Night Dean,” Sam replies. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my [Tumblr](https://soy-em.tumblr.com/).


End file.
